[OPINION] The Iglesia Ni Cristo rally and the limits of freedom

Freedom of expression and the right of peaceful assembly are among the most cherished freedoms guaranteed by the 1987 Constitution. Article III, Section 4 is unambiguous: no law shall abridge the freedom of speech, expression, or the right of the people to peaceably assemble and petition the government for redress of grievances. That protection belongs to every Filipino, regardless of political color, religious affiliation, or social standing. Whether the marchers are workers, students, or members of a religious congregation, a peaceful demonstration is a legitimate act of democratic participation.

Rallies along EDSA have long stood as a vivid illustration of that right in motion — masses of people mobilizing to make their voices heard by government and the public alike. Such gatherings remind us that democracy is healthier when citizens can disagree openly, without fear of censorship or reprisal. 

I myself have participated in many such mass actions, including as far back as February 1986  for the People Power revolution and as recently as the anti-corruption rallies last February 2026.

I also have taught through the years that as a general rule, we do not need a permit to exercise our freedom of speech and expression, and freedom to assemble.

But I also teach that constitutional rights are not absolute, and freedom is not a license to disregard everyone else’s. Only clear and present danger, which holds that the government may restrict speech or similar rights, when it creates an obvious and immediate risk of causing serious harms that the state has the authority to prevent. The danger must be both clear (identifiable, not speculative) and present (imminent, not remote).

The government carries its own duty, which includes protecting public safety, keep order, and safeguard the rights of those who are not part of the assembly but are affected by it all the same. That is precisely why the Public Assembly Act of 1985 requires permits for rallies in public places, and empowers authorities to regulate the time, place, and manner in which they unfold. The point of these rules is not to muzzle protest but to keep it peaceful and manageable for the demonstrators and for the public who did not sign up to be inconvenienced.

What happened on June 30

On Tuesday, June 30, INC rally organizers staged a surprise gathering without a permit in a show of support for Senator Rodante Marcoleta, who now faces a plunder charge before the Sandiganbayan on the Ombudsman’s recommendation. For hours, EDSA and other major thoroughfares ground to a halt. Workers arrived late or missed shifts entirely. Students couldn’t get to class. Patients were delayed in reaching medical care. Commuters lost hours; delivery riders lost income; small businesses lost sales. 

None of these people had anything to do with the cause being championed, yet they absorbed the full cost of it.

That is the heart of the problem. A gathering of thousands on a major artery like EDSA does not exist in isolation. It collides with the rights of commuters, workers, and businesses who also have constitutional protections, including the freedom to move and to go about their daily lives undisturbed. When an assembly proceeds without the permit the law requires, it isn’t just a paperwork lapse. It sidesteps the very mechanism meant to let authorities prepare for traffic, safety, and emergency response, and to protect the rights of participants and non-participants alike.

A rally in defense of a plunder case

Beyond the permit question lies a more fundamental one: what was this assembly actually for? 

The right to peaceably assemble exists so citizens can petition government for redress of grievances: to speak up against policies, injustices, or abuses that affect the public. The June 30 rally was organized for a narrower and more troubling purpose: to rally public support behind a single official who is about to face a plunder charge, one of the gravest offenses a public servant can be accused of. That is not a grievance against government; it is an attempt to wrap a personal legal predicament in the mantle of a constitutional freedom. 

When the machinery of mass assembly is deployed not to hold power accountable, but to shield an individual from accountability, the rally’s claim to moral and constitutional legitimacy weakens considerably. Freedom of assembly protects the right to be heard — it was never meant to function as a crowd-sourced defense strategy for a pending criminal case.

This distinction matters because it changes who bears the burden of the disruption and why. The public that lost work hours, missed medical appointments, and forfeited income on June 30 did not do so in service of a cause with broad public benefit; it did so, in effect, to amplify pressure on behalf of one senator’s personal legal battle. That imbalance, of widespread public sacrifice for a narrow private interest, is difficult to justify even under the most generous reading of the right to assemble.

It is also worth stating that there is nothing improper about the plunder case itself. The Ombudsman does not file charges of this magnitude lightly; a finding of probable cause follows a preliminary investigation in which the respondent is given the opportunity to answer the allegations before any case is elevated. 

The Sandiganbayan exists precisely because the Constitution and our laws recognize that public officials accused of graft and corruption deserve a specialized, competent court to hear the evidence, not trial by rally, and not trial by public sympathy. Senator Marcoleta, like any accused, retains the presumption of innocence and every right to mount a full defense before that court. But the proper venue for that defense is the courtroom, not EDSA. Using a mass mobilization to cast doubt on the integrity of the charge, or to pressure institutions into backing down, does not vindicate the senator’s rights; it substitutes political theater for due process, and asks the public to pay the price for it.
If there is one lesson June 30 should drive home, it is this: no organization, no matter its size, its numbers, or its influence, sits above the laws that govern public assembly. Equal application of the law is what keeps public trust in democratic institutions intact. Every time a permit requirement is brushed aside without consequence, it feeds a perception that some groups play by different rules than everyone else.

Fairness cuts both ways, though. The absence of a permit does not automatically render an assembly unlawful or unconstitutional. Our jurisprudence requires a case-by-case look — whether public safety was actually threatened, whether authorities responded reasonably, and whether the rights of all parties, including the demonstrators, were respected in the process.

Freedom with accountability

The Constitution grants no one unlimited freedom to act without regard for the law. Permit requirements, traffic management, and public-safety measures exist so that one group’s exercise of its rights does not trample upon the community’s. These are not tools of suppression; they are the terms under which liberty and the common good coexist.

When that balance is ignored, the legitimate exercise of a constitutional right curdles into an abuse of it. Freedom of expression and peaceable assembly were never meant to serve as a shield against legal obligations or a pretext for imposing avoidable burdens on the public. 

The true test of a democracy isn’t simply whether it tolerates demonstrations; it’s whether it can protect civil liberties and the common good at the same time, and hold everyone, without exception, accountable to the rule of law. – Rappler.com